Fractured (Deep In Your Veins, #5)(5)

Yet, Imani’s first words to me had been: ‘Your eyes are really dark. I have total eye colour envy right now.’ And I’d sworn I wouldn’t let a damn thing happen to this female who looked at me with absolutely no fear. She was the only person who seemed to think I was normal. Or maybe she just didn’t care that I wasn’t.

I’d watched her closely, looked out for her on assignments. And I’d eventually acted on the unrelenting urge to take and claim; to live out the fantasy of her little body wrapped around me while I pounded in and out of her. She was all wicked curves and smooth muscle, and there wasn’t a single inch of her that I hadn’t tasted.

There was something transfixing about her; in the way she carried herself with confidence and poise. In some ways, she made me think of a cat. She was graceful. Curious. Independent. So easy-going she often came across as aloof to those who didn’t know her. Not to mention that she could fall asleep just about anywhere. And then there was that condescending look she’d mastered. Perversely, when she jutted her chin and gave me that haughty attitude, I wanted nothing more than to bend her over and f*ck her raw.

What appealed to me most about her was the quiet strength that stamped her as a survivor. Not just a survivor, a fighter.

She thought I didn’t know her. She was wrong. I’d watched her grow and toughen since joining the legion. I’d seen her at her weakest, seen her at her strongest, and seen her at her most dangerous. I both admired and respected Imani Prince.

I’d spent the entire time we’d been sleeping together telling myself I didn’t want more. I’d spent the time since then realising that I did. I just didn’t have much to give her. But I couldn’t stay away. She was an addiction I couldn’t shake. A dangerous obsession that wouldn’t fade. She was...important.

“Everything I am?” she echoed.

Slowly rounding the breakfast bar, I stalked toward her. Tensing slightly, she turned to face me—head up, back straight, and eyes boldly on mine. So f*cking strong. I brushed my thumb over her pulse. “I’ve missed the taste of you.” Sweet and tangy. “Missed being in you.” Missed her blood flowing into my mouth while her body tightened around my cock.

“Butch—”

“I’ll have that again. Because when I say everything you are, I mean exactly that. Your blood, your mind, your body, your soul—everything.” I buried my hand in her silky long hair; it was just a few shades darker than her hazelnut brown eyes. It always smelled like vanilla, and it perfectly complemented her unique scent of strawberries and cream—a scent that seemed to have embedded itself in my lungs, just as her taste seemed embedded on my tongue.

When I’d watched her walk out of my apartment the last time we were together, knowing that she’d never be back, it had felt like a punch to the solar plexus. Back then, I hadn’t understood why it hurt. Not until I saw her with Dean.

The jealousy hadn’t come as a surprise, considering the possessiveness that I hadn’t been able to shake off. But the pain...I hadn’t expected that. My stomach had rolled whenever I saw them together. Each time she’d smiled up at him or laughed at something he’d said, an ache built in my chest. That ache had gotten worse the longer they were together.

So many times I’d come close to punching the prick—especially when he shot me one of those smug smirks. He’d seen the way I looked at her, and he’d known he had what I wanted most. And he’d loved that. Got a kick out of it.

The only thing that had held me back was that he was good to Imani. He’d treated her well, and he’d seemed to care for her. That was why his betrayal had come as such a shock to everyone. But some people were just weak against temptation, and some took what they had for granted. Maybe that was why Dean had f*cked her over. I didn’t know.

The first thing I’d done was beat him to a pulp for hurting her.

The second thing I’d done was decide that I’d somehow get her back. This time, I wouldn’t let her go. I’d take this second chance with her, and I’d make it work. Nothing would get in my way—not Imani’s doubts, not my issues with relationships, and definitely not Dean.

“Is the prick trying to win you back?” I rumbled.

“He has a name, you know.”

“Don’t care. He had what I craved every f*cking day and night. That makes him a prick.”

Flushing, she briefly averted her gaze. “The constant cravings…They’re not real. It’s the Keja allure that makes you feel that way—it keeps our prey coming back again and again. It’s probably what caused your jealousy and possessiveness too.”

I gave a slow shake of the head. There were plenty of her breed around The Hollow; I’d learned to withstand the Keja allure a long time ago. “If that was the case…” I put her hand over my cock. It was so painfully hard, I could hammer nails with it. “This would happen every time I was around Paige, too.”

Lips flattening, Imani made a feral noise in the back of her throat. She snatched her hand free and folded her arms over her chest.

“If he does contact you, be sure to tell him how things are with you and me.”

She sighed, looking sad and weary all of a sudden. “You don’t want a relationship, Butch. Not really. If you feel possessive and jealous, it’s because of the Keja allure. The cravings will fade, they always do.”